


Flowers for Valentine's Day

by strawberryowl



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Historical Accuracy, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-30 15:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20449253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryowl/pseuds/strawberryowl
Summary: Valentine's Day. The average human could, in good circumstances, experience around 79 of them. Some more, some less. An angel and a demon, two immortal beings, got more of them, of course, hundreds, thousands of them. Thirteen are enough though, to tell their story. A story of forbidden love, longing, arguments. Of forgiving and kissing, of declarations of love.The story of how an angel and a demon fall in love together, over the years.---They looked at each other, unsure about what came next. Aziraphale could invite him over to continue the evening, or they could walk around the hills, looking at the beautiful night sky.He was close to asking him, when Crowley said something first. “Well. See you around.” He grinned, waved at him.“Yes. See you around.” Aziraphale replicated the gesture, but Crowley didn’t look back again.The cosy feeling disappeared, made room for the cold to settle in.He felt strangely empty.





	1. Part 1 - Valentine's Day 1 to 4

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: Tell a story based on 51 Valentine's Days. I managed 13 of them :)  
Hope you enjoy!

_1\. 269 Rome_

The preacher Valentine of Rome had died the martyr death.  
News which left Aziraphale in shock. He never happened to meet Valentine, but he heard what he had done. He wed soldiers which weren’t allowed to, preached for Christians that were prosecuted by the government.  
When he heard the humans talk good about Valentine, honouring him for his deeds, his heart warmed. It was nice having people like him on earth, people who spread good, when there already was so much bad going on.  
It was a shame he had to be executed.  
The Via Flamina was empty. Aziraphale had expected many people to show up, to mourn over the death of Valentine. Maybe they were too afraid to come, he thought to himself.  
He put a single, white flower over his grave and thanked him silently for all the good things he had done.  
“Well, isn`t it strange that your lot kills him for doing good?” He heard a familiar voice beside him. He wanted to provoke him, wanted him to question. He always did. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he did a good job at it.  
“Crowley. What are you doing here? And they aren’t our people. I’m not responsible for what they are doing. And I don’t support it.” His glare slipped off of Crowleys sunglasses, behind which he hid his snake eyes.  
“I expected I’d find you here.” He didn’t react to the second part, which Aziraphale noticed with a huff.  
“Also, I quite like that guy. He did what he thought was right, though it put him in danger. Well I suppose it was pretty dumb of him. Just got him death.” He laughed and Aziraphale crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
“He was a good person. I’m surprised you like him.”  
Crowley shrugged. Being a demon didn’t change the fact that he could like people which did good. As long as no one down there noticed, he was fine.  
“Whatever. Wanna drink something? A good wine maybe? In remembrance of good old Valentine?” He grinned.  
He was already midway of giving in to him, then he stopped. He shouldn’t say yes as fast as he had intended to do just now. He was a demon, he was the enemy. But he also was Crowley. Not-so-nice-but-actually-very-nice Crowley. The last time they were in Rome together, eating oysters, he quite enjoyed his company. He bit down on his lip.  
Well, what was the harm? It wasn’t like heaven and hell were always watching. And if they decided, for whatever reason, to do it today of all days, then- then he was keeping an eye on evil.  
He sighed resigned.  
“Okay. I can’t say anything against a good wine. And maybe something delicious to eat?” He asked hopeful. The strange feeling inside his stomach stayed, but maybe it would disappear if he ate.  
“Sure, if that makes you happy.” Crowley rolled his eyes. Still, Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. He heard the warmth in his words, though it wasn’t intended to be there.  
As they sat together, enjoying the food and the wine, they also celebrated the very first Valentine’s Day.  
No one called it that, yet. And no one would see a romantic intention behind this dinner. It wasn’t romantic, except for the light brush of fingers each time the bottle of wine was passed on, and that stayed there a bit longer than necessary.

_2\. 469 – 14th of February_

This time, Aziraphale was the one to spot Crowley. It was hard not to see him, given he was the only one sitting in the small tavern. It was a small village, far away from places were real evil could thrive. He was surprised to meet Crowley here, of all places.  
Still, it had been some time since he’d seen him. He had to admit that he’d missed him.  
Well, not really missed but, you know, it was nice seeing a familiar face from time to time. It’s not like he, an angel, would actually miss a demon. That probably wasn’t allowed. He shook his head, as if those ridiculous thought might vanish from that.  
“Oh, hello Crowley. What a lovely surprise to see you here. Not really somewhere you’d suspect someone like you, what’s the occasion?” He put on a smile and slid onto the free chair opposite of Crowley.  
“Aziraphale. Hey.” He raised a hand to greet him. “Could ask you the same. Nothing much to do here for the two of us. You could say I’m on vacation. The last few years with the Huns were exhausting.” He grimaced.  
“But let’s not talk about it. A mead for the Sir!”  
The beverage was put in front of Aziraphale. Not his favourite drink, but it was a small place, they hadn’t had much more to offer. That’s the disadvantage of small villages.  
“I also need a little pause from- well, from all, I suppose. Gabriel has been really stressful the last few years.” He sighed, and they clinked glasses. The mead warmed Aziraphale from the inside, a cosy feeling settled in.  
They continued drinking and chatting, Aziraphale mostly talking about things he read the last few years and Crowley listening patiently, before he was talking about the mild annoyances he caused humanity lately.  
“Oh! You will like what I’m about to tell you!” he said excited. “There’s a Valentine’s Day now.”  
“Valentine’s Day? What’s that supposed to be?”  
“You still remember good old Valentine, back in Rome? Who helped people and bit the dust for it?”  
“Ah, yes!” He nodded happily. It was a good wine they shared that day.  
“Well, he got his own day now. For people to remember him or something. They’re probably sorry for killing him, I guess. It’s in February if I remember correctly.”  
The 14th of February, to be accurate, but Crowley had only overheard the conversation and thought it might be something that’d interest Aziraphale.  
“It is February right now!” Aziraphale beamed, and Crowley smiled back. No grin, but an honest smile. Soft, one could say. Some angels had told him once, that demons couldn’t smile. And if, it definitely wouldn’t be soft.  
It was a pretty smile.  
It felt like something special, and it made the warm and cosy feeling in Aziraphales belly spread further.  
“To Valentine!” Crowley raised his jug once again, for them to toast.  
They continued drinking, and they would have continued if the owner of the place wouldn’t have kicked them out. He finally wanted to close and those two men, who only ordered one mead and drank from it the whole night were the only thing that had stopped him.  
“I never got kicked out of anywhere.” Aziraphale giggled.  
“Always a pleasure to open new doors for you.”  
They looked at each other, unsure about what came next. Aziraphale could invite him over to continue the evening, or they could walk around the hills, looking at the beautiful night sky.  
He was close to asking him, when Crowley said something first. “Well. See you around.” He grinned, waved at him.  
“Yes. See you around.” Aziraphale replicated the gesture, but Crowley didn’t look back again.  
The cosy feeling disappeared, made room for the cold to settle in.  
He felt strangely empty.

_3\. 1400 – 14th of February – Mantes-la-Jolie_

The Court de Love, a one-time festivity in the palace of the French royals. Poets, tournaments, a feast – the nobleness of French assembled here to have a bit of fun.  
Among them, an angel and a demon had sneaked him.  
Aziraphale was here for the Poets- and for the feast. Literature and food, who could say no to that? He certainly couldn’t.  
Why Crowley was there, well that was a question he asked himself too. He didn’t believe his eyes when he first saw a person, dressed completely in black, leaning against the disgustingly expensive wallpaper. It was probably so expensive, that you could feed an entire village for some months. And this person was leaning against it, as if it were nothing.  
After glancing over to them a few times, he noticed a pair of dark sunglasses sitting on the persons nose. His last doubts vanished with that. It was Crowley.  
Is heart jumped, as Crowley noticed him. He felt his eyes on him, as Crowley gave up his place on the wall and walked to him. He suddenly felt very nervous.  
“Pretty boring, don’t you think?” He poured himself some wine and then slouched into the chair next to Aziraphale. As if he had to compensate Crowleys posture, Aziraphale straightened his.  
“Boring? Don’t you like the poets?” He looked dreamily to the middle of the room, where one of them was confessing his love in form of a lovely ballad to the audience.  
“You can’t speak French, angel.” Crowley raised an eyebrow.  
“W-Well. I understand enough!” Pink spread over his cheeks. “I can feel their love and their passion. That’s nice too, you know.” He snatched the bottle of wine from Crowley, pouring himself some wine too.  
“If you say so. Personally, that lovey-dovey crap is getting on my nerves. If I have to hear the word _amour_ one more time, than I will most definitely puke.”  
“Then maybe you should have chosen another festivity to hang around at, one that doesn’t have the word love in its name maybe. What are you even doing here, if all that is so annoying to you?” Offended, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
“Not so sure of that myself. The fourteenth century was so boring, so I wanted a nice start into the fifteenth, at least. Maybe get some of those rich folks to annoy each other, start some drama. I never liked them.” He shrugged. “Suppose I can’t do that anymore, now that you’re here. At least nothing big.”  
As he said that, a count tripped, spilling his wine all over his expensive clothes and started whining about it.  
“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry to inconvenience you.” He didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in his words.  
A young maiden hurried over to the count to clean his clothes. The stain could barely be seen anymore, and both the maiden and the count looked at each other shyly. Aziraphale smiled a small smile, Crowley rolled his eyes.  
„I didn’t say it’s something bad. It’s nice to- I am hap- We haven’t seen each other for quite some time.” He murmured.  
“I’m also happy to see you again.” He couldn’t help but smile.  
Crowleys head jerked to him. He looked at him warily through his dark glasses. Aziraphale shifted under his gaze. They normally didn’t tell each other things like that. They were staying on neutral territory. They weren’t friends, they weren’t enemies. They had the arrangement, so technically they were colleagues. But still- Aziraphale liked Crowley a bit more than he probably should. Even without considering the fact that angels shouldn’t like demons at all.  
There was just something about Crowley that made him incredibly fond of him. He couldn’t help but be pulled into his orbit.  
Crowley continued staring at him, lost in his own thoughts. He probably would have continued staring for another while, if Aziraphale had not cleared his throat. They both emptied their wine in one go.  
The poet finished his last lines. Aziraphale sighed dreamily, and Crowley relieved, because it was finally over. It was the last one for today.  
The orchestra started playing a lovely tune and people found themselves a partner to dance with. The basse danse, a slow dance, where you pace around each other. Aziraphale looked at them longingly. He had always wanted to dance. As if Crowley had read his mind, he stood up and offered him a hand.  
“Fancy dancing with me, angel?”  
Aziraphale blinked at him confused. “Angels don’t dance, you know that, dear.”  
He thought he’d drop the topic with that, but Crowley wouldn’t be Crowley if he would.  
“You’re not the stereotypical angel though, are you? The stereotypical angel would probably be busy choking the demon before him or something.”  
“Don’t say that, Crowley.” He grimaced.  
“Okay, okay. Not that great of an example, got it. Let me try again: The stereotypical angel would probably not drink good wine, or eat oysters. It’s just a small dance, so what’s the harm? If you don’t like it, we can always stop.”  
It was tempting, and Aziraphale really did want to dance with him. Again, it was Crowley who broke through his walls as if it were nothing. He chewed on his lip, until he gave into the temptation with a nod.  
“Okay. One dance. But be warned: I’m an awful dancer, I assume.” He let Crowley take his hand and tried to ignore the warm feeling that spread through his whole body.  
He barely managed the pacing part of the basse danse. When it came to the figures, he failed miserably. That Crowley laughed at it made the situation only worse.  
“I told you that I can’t dance. If you just want to make fun of me, then you can go find yourself another partner.” He resisted the urge to cross his arms in front of him. It would have meant to let go of Crowleys hand, and he wasn’t ready for that yet.  
“I will stop. I’m sorry, but you just look so adorable when you trip over your own feet.” He looked at him sheepishly.  
Aziraphale stared back at him with big eyes. It was probably the first time a demon used the word adorable. And the first time he got a compliment like that. It was new, unusual, irritating. His head felt a bit cloudy. A smile found its way on his lips.  
Why was he feeling so tingly all of a sudden? His heart raced in his chest. Since when did he feel like that with Crowley by his side?  
Was this love? If it was, Aziraphale could understand the fuss about it. It was a nice feeling. His smile grew even more.  
He liked dancing, though he wasn’t very good at it. It was fun. He let his gaze slide through the crowd. It stopped at a face, that looked strangely familiar. The smile was swept from his lips.  
He looked like Gabriel.  
Aziraphale froze and Crowley bumped into him.  
“Everything alright? You look a bit pale.” Crowley asked, frowning.  
Aziraphale was still focused in the other man. The longer he stared, the lesser he looked like Gabriel. They were still similar enough to give Aziraphale some kind of heart attack.  
If it had been Gabriel and he had seen them dance together, there would have been severe consequences.  
It felt like a bubble had burst around him.  
Crowley touched his shoulder carefully. He was still waiting for an answer.  
“Uhm. Yes. Everything’s alright. I just thought- maybe we could sit down again?” He didn’t tell Crowley about the Gabriel-imposter. He didn’t want to bother him with that.  
“Yeah. Sure. If that’s what you want.” Crowley tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but failed at it. Their hands parted and Aziraphale longed to hold it again. His hand felt empty and cold without it.  
Unpleasant silence had settled between them. Aziraphale tried very hard to find a topic to talk about, but his mind seemed to be completely blank.  
“Ah, Crowley. We still have to toast. Today is the fourteenth of February. Valentine’s Day. Like the last time.” He forced a smile.  
“Hm? Oh yeah. To Valentine.”  
They clinked glasses and went back to normal, ignoring their doubts and sorrows.  
Only when their ways parted, they allowed themselves to think about it.

_4\. 1505 – 14th of February – London_

Valentine’s Day had gotten a romantic meaning. The humans used this day to give each other presents. Flowers, poems – almost everywhere you could find those gestures of affection.  
Aziraphale was sure that Valentine would have liked this. Lovers were giving in his name. It was romantic, and he loved it.  
In contrast to Aziraphales smile, there was Crowleys frown.  
He didn’t like Valentine’s Day anymore, he was pretty close to hating it. Still, he agreed when Aziraphale invited him, to remember Valentine and drink a good wine, like they did so often. As long as he didn’t call it Valentine’s Day, everything was fine.  
They chose a small place, a table for two and a cake for Aziraphale.  
He noticed happily, and Crowley sadly, that there were poets again, who spread romance in the taverns.  
He could sense a strong wave of love in the city.  
“What a plague. Everywhere you go, you see one of them. Do they not have anything better to do?”  
“I still can’t understand why you hate it so much. It is so romantic!” He rested his head on his hand.  
“I’m a demon, Aziraphale. What did you expect?” He rolled with his eyes.  
“Well, indeed you are, but you’re not the stereotypical demon either, are you?”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Well, you are- you are not-“ Aziraphale gestured wildly, while trying to find the right words. Crowley waited patiently for him to finish his thoughts.  
“-a foul fiend?”, he tried, and Crowley laughed at that.  
“What I’m trying to say is, that you do good too, from time to time. No matter how hard you deny it.”  
“I don’t do good deeds, I- it’s all part of a greater, evil plan.”  
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. He copied that gesture from Crowley and had trained in front if the mirror to perfect it. Crowley moaned annoyed.  
“Still don’t know how that has anything to do with me not liking lovey-dovey crap.”  
“Well, it could have been possible that you are not like the other demons in that matter too. You know that better than I, I assume. That you can’t feel love, I mean, that you can’t love in general. It makes sense to hate it, for you.”  
He could not look Crowley in the eye, so he lowered his gaze and concentrated on his fingers. He kneaded them nervously. He was scared of his reaction, he feared that it was true, though he had thought he had accepted it long ago. That Crowley couldn’t ever love him back, simply because he wasn’t capable of it.  
Crowley was still silent, so he tried to catch a quick look at him. He looked angry, boiling. His lips were pressed to a thin line. Aziraphales insides squirmed at that sight.  
“Is that what you think?” Crowley tried to keep his voice neutral, but it was shaking.  
“It- It’s what they told us.” He looked at him confused. Was it not true?  
“You don’t love, don’t feel, don’t-“  
“I asked if it’s what you think.”  
Aziraphale gulped. „I don’t know if I understand your question, Crowley.” He blinked irritated.  
“I’m asking you, if you, after all this time, still believe that I don’t love y- That I don’t feel anything, that I’m- that I’m some kind of monster like heaven told you.” He was losing his temper by now. His cold voice got heated up with each word he spoke.  
“You’re not a monster, I know that, Crowley.”  
“You don’t know nothing, Aziraphale. Nothing.” He hissed his words, almost spat them in his face. Aziraphale flinched. It felt like a slap to the face.  
“Crowley, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you. If I did, I am terribly sorry.” He wanted to reach for his hand, to tell him (and himself), that everything was alright. Before he reached him, Crowley jerked his hand away.  
“I really thought you knew better. That you were different than those assholes up there. I can’t believe that you don’t know that I- arrghg.” He emptied his glass of wine.  
“Crowley I really didn’t mean to-“  
“And I thought you knew me better than anyone else.” He put his glass down harder than necessary. “Have a nice Valentine’s Day, Aziraphale.” He turned around.  
“Crowley! Where are you going?”  
“Home. For a while.” He raised his hand for a wave, without looking back. Aziraphale stood up, reaching his hand for him.  
“Crowley, please-“  
He snapped his fingers, and vanished.  
“-please don’t go.”  
But Crowley was gone already, and his words went unnoticed.


	2. Part 2 - Valentine's Day 5 - 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s answer to his letter had been short and irritating.
> 
> Okay, had stood on the tiny piece of paper he had send back to Aziraphale.
> 
> Okay. Nothing more.
> 
> He didn’t know that were so many ways one could interpret the world okay, but he did exactly that the entire year.

  1. _ 1518– 14th of February – London_

It’s been thirteen years since he last saw Crowley. Not usually a problem for two celestial and immortal beings, but their argument has left a bitter taste in his mouth. Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to see him again. Everything should go back and be like it was before he ruined everything.

In those thirteen years he also had enough time to think through some things. He was pretty sure Crowley’s reaction meant that he could love. But now Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that was maybe worse.

Sure, after he discovered his own feelings, the first thing he did was to wish for them to be requited. As you do, normally. But now he asked himself what would be if Crowley actually did love him back.

What would it change? Definitely not the fact that they couldn’t be together. Aziraphale knew heaven would show no mercy to them, were they to find out that he was loving a demon. Or even if they found out he had any connection to Crowley at all.

What hell would do to Crowley, well, he didn’t want to imagine that. It didn’t stop him from doing so, though, after several bottles of wine to fill the hole in his chest. Images flooded him, images of Crowley being tortured just because Aziraphale had fallen in love with him. He couldn’t stand them.

He didn’t know what hell would do, but it would probably be ten times worse than what heaven would do. Heaven was supposed to be forgiving, though you couldn’t see much of that lately.

No, it had no sense to hope for Crowley to love him back. It would only make everything worse. Maybe it would be for the best to never see him again, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t. He was to selfish for that. If he couldn’t have Crowley, he at least wanted to admire him when they sat next to each other, sharing bottles of wine and a good laugh.

So, though the best thing to do would be to just leave Crowley be and never see each other again and get over his feelings, Aziraphale didn’t do it.

Instead, he wrote a letter. 

_ <strike>My dearest Crowley </strike> _

_ <strike>Crowley</strike> _

_ <strike>Good day</strike> _

_Hello, Crowley._

_It’s been quite some time since our last <strike>dinner</strike> argument and I still haven’t heard anything from you.<strike></strike>_

_ <strike>I miss you.</strike> _

_I am worried that <strike>I might have ruined us. ruined</strike> <strike>our friendship</strike> our arrangement could be in danger because of that. I really am sorry that I’d hurt your feelings. It wasn’t my intention._

_I have always thought that the descriptions of a demon heaven taught us couldn’t be true when it came to you. <strike>You have to much love inside of you.</strike> Please accept my apologies for saying something so definitely not true. I should have known better. _

_ <strike>So please, talk to me again. Don’t leave me all alone. I miss you Crowley, I really do. </strike> _

_I would like to forget about all of this and would be grateful if you would stop being angry at me._

_Today is Valentine’s Day by the way. Though we won’t see each other today, let’s raise our glasses to Valentine. _

_ <strike>Please answer me</strike> _

_I hope we soon can work together again. _

_ <strike>Hope you are alright </strike> _

_ <strike>With love, </strike> _

_ <strike>Yours, </strike> _

_ <strike>See you soon, </strike> _

_Sincerely, _

_Aziraphale._

It was terrible, way to formal, not at all what he was wanting to say and dishonest. But it was neutral, and neutral was good. It was safe. He mustn’t show Crowley how much he needed him.

If Crowley would find out, there’d be two options.

Option 1: He didn’t love him and their contact would become less and less, until they stopped talking completely. The good thing would be, that they were no longer in danger, the bad thing, that Aziraphale would lose him for good. He wasn’t yet ready for that. Like it was said, he was selfish.

Option 2: He did love him and would to everything to convince Aziraphale. He would give him hope, would make bittersweet promises they both knew he couldn’t keep. And Aziraphale knew that he would sooner or later start believing him and let himself be dragged into this fantasy that everything could be alright. It would be beautiful and all he ever wished for. But it would also be fragile. So fragile, they’d both break.

And that he couldn’t let happen.

Hands shaking, he folded the letter and put him in an envelope. With a snap of his fingers it disappeared. It would find its way to the demon today, wherever he might be.

Immediately, doubts and sorrows started to form inside of him. His hands were still shaking as I sat down at the armchair in his small living room, that looked rather like a bookstore. Maybe he would open one some day.

He poured two glasses of champagne, one of Crowley’s favourites. When there was a second glass, he didn’t feel as empty.

The sound of the clinking glasses spread hollowly through the room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, he mumbled to no one in particular. The echo of the clinking was his only response.

  1. 1519 – 14th of February – Spain

Crowley’s answer to his letter had been short and irritating.

_Okay_, had stood on the tiny piece of paper he had send back to Aziraphale.

Okay. Nothing more.

He didn’t know that were so many ways one could interpret the world okay, but he did exactly that the entire year.

Crowley hadn’t showed up or wrote anything, and it made Aziraphale go insane.

But well. At least they weren’t in danger, he told himself when he, once again, felt like crying out of frustration and/or heartache.

Instead of crying, he had spent much of his time working. The journey of Magellan, the first journey with a ship around the world of its kind, had to be planned. He had to make sure everything worked out like it was intended from above. It was supposed to play a role in the history that was to come. He couldn’t allow any mistakes. Or well, at least not mistakes heaven would notice.

Today though, he took a day off. He needed some time for himself, a moment to be sad and to think about Crowley and all the things they’d never have. What other day to choose for that, if not Valentine’s Day?

It was nice weather, and instead of mourning inside, he decided to just go to the beach and stare dramatically at the wide sea. Soon Magellan’s journey would start here.

With a sigh, he let himself fall into the cool sand, leaning his back against a bolder. He took a bottle of wine and a book out of the charming picnic basket that wasn’t there seconds ago.

Some couples also found their way to the beach to look at the sunset, and later the stars. They wrapped themselves up in blankets and sat close to each other, used the chilly air as an excuse to snuggle closer to each other.

Aziraphale didn’t feel the cold, or well, it never really bothered him anyway. Angels always radiated warmth, it was enough not to get cold.

He felt Crowley’s presence before he saw him. It was something every angel could sense, and Aziraphale also managed to differ Crowley’s presence from those of any other demon. Without wanting to raise suspicion, he looked out for him, but couldn’t see him anywhere.

He had to be here somewhere, and he had to be close.

His gaze fell on a little snake that was making its way through the sand in front of him. Well, not as big and frightening as Aziraphale remembered his snake form to be, but that would also raise suspicion among the humans. Maybe he also didn’t want Aziraphale to notice, since the tiny snake never gave him so much as any acknowledgement of his existence.

“Hello, Crowley.” He whispered and smiled at the little creature.

The snake continued to ignore him and the hand Aziraphale hat stretched out for him to climb on, if he so liked.

“Crowley! Wait! How much longer do you plan on ignoring and being angry at me? You must be like, what, 9753 years old and you are still behaving like a child. Please, dear.

How many apologies do you want? Just talk to me again, my dear.” He was surprised at how desperate he sounded.

The snake crawled faster away from him, and he watched him go with a frown and wet eyes. He should leave Crowley alone, he clearly didn’t want to speak to him and Aziraphale had to accept that. Still, he wished he would have stayed. He still felt his presence and leant his own a little against it. He missed him so much. He sighed, and then closed his eyes, recollecting himself.

“Well all that was pretty sweet, but I think you got the wrong snake.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes again. His gaze found Crowleys, and for a moment he was at a complete loss of words.

“Crowley, my dear? So you- You weren’t?”

“Nope.” He popped the p. He was lazily leaning against the boulder, a small smile trying to find his way on his lips. Aziraphale wanted to hug him, he really did. He never wanted anything so much, he thought. But he could not do that, so he continued to stare, still a little dumbfounded.

“Have you seen this small noodle? I can’t believe you thought it was me.” He continued and then sat down next to Aziraphale.

“So you are not mad anymore?” He asked carefully, squinting his eyes at him. This sudden change of mind irritated him.

“Oh, no. I am, really. But I suppose I can’t keep avoiding you any longer. And you apologized. Pretty often, actually. Can’t really ask for more than that, can I?” He shrugged and averted his gaze. “Sorry for not saying something sooner. I guess I let you suffer to, huh?”

“O-Oh. Well. It’s okay. I deserved it. Got time for some wine?” He took out two glasses from the basket and poured them some. Crowley emptied his in one go. Typical. A smile stole its way on his lips. He allowed himself to look at Crowley a little bit longer, bystanders would have described it as dreamily.

“What is it, angel?”

“I missed you.” The words escaped his mouth before he could think about it. Because of being so happy, he forgot his plan to keep his distance. Then he remembered, and also realized what he just said.

“Missed you too, angel.” Crowley said, before Aziraphale could take it back.

He forced a smile. It hurt, but it also felt right.

As the evening continued and the sun set, the two drifted closer together again. The stars shone brightly over them, not a single cloud there to disturb the image.

It was the wines, and only the wines fault that Aziraphale placed his head on Crowley’s shoulder as he continued to talk about the countless stars and their history.

He knew, because he had created some of them with the other angels.

Aziraphale snuggled closer to him, ignoring his worries for a moment.

Something that felt so good couldn’t possibly be wrong.

Then Crowley mentioned Gabriel, and the fear returned, as Aziraphale removed his head from his shoulder and tried to keep his distance for the rest of the evening.

  1. 1606 – 14th of February – London

It had become a tradition to meet each Valentine’s Day, if they weren’t too occupied with their jobs. Nothing romantic behind it, really, just toasting to Valentine. They had done so quite often the last few years, so why stop now?

There were only a few conditions:

The meeting really, really, wasn’t romantic. No connection to romance, no poetry, nothing. They also weren’t allowed to give each other presents. It would have been romantic.

When they met up, they weren’t allowed to ‘work’ that day. It meant for Crowley to not cause inconveniences for people, like cursing them with big pimples just before confessing their love, breaking of the voice when reading poetry or stepping into horse shit and smelling like it the whole day. Just to name a few of them.

For Aziraphale it meant not letting every couple glow with love when they passed them. Not miraculously finding the right words, flowers blooming even brighter and giving lovers enough courage to confess.

Both of them regretted not using Valentine’s Day properly, but for each other they held their urges back. <strike>And for the sake of romance. </strike>

It wasn’t hard to stick to those rules, until Crowley broke them.

Of course Crowley broke them. In a few cases, like in this one, Aziraphale was okay with it.

Though he did not know where they were going yet, he was excited and bubbly since Crowley had announced he had a surprise for him. Maybe he should have waited with it, because Aziraphale, when being excited and bubbly, could talk without ever needing to catch a breath.

“- really no idea, where we are going. Can I have a clue? A small one? Or maybe not. I do want to be surprised. Or maybe do give me a clue? I have never gotten a gift before.”

Crowley groaned annoyed, but he couldn’t even convince himself with it. His smile was giving him away.

“Oh. Crowley. I don’t have a present for you!”

“It’s not a _present_, it’s- you don’t have to give me anything back.”

“That’s very ni-“Crowley glared at him. “That’s okay, but I would like to return the favour.” He smiled at him sheepishly. Aziraphale had never received a gift, but he had also never given anyone a gift. Who else to share this experience with if not Crowley?

“Don’t have to, though. We should be there any minute now.” Crowley avoided his gaze.

Aziraphale checked his surroundings. He knew this part of the city. Southwark was known for its theatres, but Crowley couldn’t possibly- Or could he?

He tried to read Crowley’s expression, but he continued to avoid his gaze.

Aziraphale recognized the Globe theatre from afar. Lots of people already gathered there, waiting to be let in. They got closer and closer, but it could still be only by chance. As Crowley guided him through the crowd, his last doubts vanished.

He looked at him with big eyes. “Crowley! We’re seeing a play? Which one?”

Crowley murmured something under his breath.

“You have to talk a bit louder, dear.”

“Romeo and Juliet”, he said. Before Aziraphale could even say anything, he continued. “T’was the only play they had for tonight. And you mentioned you like it. So why not.” He looked everywhere, except for Aziraphale, but he could still see the redness that was starting to spread over his cheeks.

He smiled. “Thank you, Crowley. That’s really a niche gift. And a surprise. I thought you didn’t like _lovey-dovey crap_.”

“I’m gonna try to sleep. Still don’t like it”, he mumbled and rolled his eyes.

“Just try it. It really is a good play.”

They sat down. They were close to the stage and Aziraphale was grateful to have a place to sit and not having to stand in the crowd.

Crowley poured them some wine, and Aziraphale sighed contently.

“You know, they always reminded me of us”, he said dreamily. Crowley’s head jerked to look at him and only now he noticed he said it out loud. It took a lot of control to not blush immediately.

“W-Well. Not directly. Not love or anything, but like, our friendship. Between two families that aren’t too fond of it, and- and-“ He tried to search for the right words, but his mind was as empty as it could be. Crowley seemed to stare right through him and didn’t seem like he would stop anytime soon. Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Well. I assume you get what I am saying. We should toast. To Valentine! May he be well!” He raised his glass and looked at Crowley desperately. He seemed to get the hint and raised his glass too.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, angel.”

The first actor appeared on the stage and Aziraphale was glad to have escaped the conversation. He was still a bit on the edge and could barely concentrate on the words that were said. The beat of his heart seemed to be louder than the actor’s voices.

Crowley had his eyes on him for the entire play, trying to read him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading it! Be prepared for some more Angst in the next chapters! :)

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother tongue, so if you find any mistakes you can tell me and I'll fix it :)


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